


spiegel im spiegel

by kodzukenx



Category: Given (Manga)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, M/M, Music, Past Relationship(s), Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22174420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kodzukenx/pseuds/kodzukenx
Summary: In this moment, it was safe to say that Ugetsu's heart was just as cold as the freezing temperatures of winter.How weary had he grown of these ice-numbing days.
Relationships: Kaji Akihiko/Murata Ugetsu, Murata Ugetsu/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 18





	spiegel im spiegel

**Author's Note:**

> — For a winter challenge prompt

**𝐈.**

If we could meet in privacy,

Where no one else could see,

Softly I'd whisper in thy ear

This little word from me —

'I'm dying. Love for thee.'

**Sakyo Michimasa**

Hiroto had just finished his performance. As he stood there outside, in nothing but a thin coat, all smile and giggles, Ugetsu found it hard to swallow. His mouth had gone dry, his tongue all pasty and sour. He wanted to say so much, yet nothing seemed to come out. Maybe he should’ve started by just saying how gorgeous he looked beneath the glowing afternoon sun. “How was it Ugetsu? Was it enough to excite you?”, the boy asked with a huge grin, cheeks reddened by the cold. Frankly, his composition had been unsurprisingly cheerful, uplifting, gleeful—yet painfully heart-wrenching. The meaning behind each lyric, the signification behind each note, Ugetsu could not accept it. He was no fool, he knew that Hiroto’s song was a declaration of love.

And so, there he was, about to shatter an innocent heart without a glimpse of remorse, or perhaps, that is what he tried to convince himself of. After all, rejection is always an easier thing to do when there is no lingering feeling of regret attached to it.

With flushed fingers, the violinist pulled his scarf higher on his face, as to hide his sensible skin from the strong winter winds. “Say, let’s end this.”, he blurred out, words muffled by the fabric in front of his mouth, yet voice still loud enough for the other man to hear him from a few feet away. Hiroto’s expression froze. His joyful smile vanished into thin air and his sparkling eyes lost of its bright gleam. The sight pained him, made his heart ache in his chest. It was too much for him to bear, to take in. His usual soft features had gone tense, his eyes looked redder than before. Speechless, Ugetsu wondered if this was how he looked like last year when Akihiko had broken up with him beneath the falling snow. Had he worn such a hopeless expression back then? Had he looked so frail and delicate, so easily breakable?

“Huh-? What do you mean?”, Hiroto asked after a long agonizing minute of silence. His tone was hopeful, filled with such naïve and childish faith. Ugetsu couldn’t tell whether the musician actually didn’t know what he meant or if he was just desperately trying to push the inevitable truth away.

“I’m breaking up with you.”, the prodigy replied. Was that his words or a copy of Akihiko’s from back then? They sounded so oddly familiar, like an old and unpleasant memory that Ugetso was so hopelessly trying to forget. Although, it was still there, engraved in the depths of his mind. Slowly, he could feel his head thumping, feel the headache emerging. Soft and controlled breaths turned into heavy inhales, which then grew into white puffs of air as it came in contact with the freezing outside temperature.

“What-?”, the blonde whispered out, voice breaking from this sudden overwhelmingly sad news. “Why?” Hiroto’s red eyes became foggy and teary, hot tears turning to ice as they traveled down his cheeks. Ugetsu, unable to look at his despairing soul any longer, glanced down at his red fingers, frozen by the breeze. “I can’t do this anymore. I really can’t. So I’m breaking up with you, Hiroto.” What a poor excuse—; what a lamentable explanation. He knew well that the musician deserved much better than such a cowardly reasoning like this one.

However, Ugetsu couldn’t seem to come up with anything better.

He had really loved him wholeheartedly—intoxicatingly even. Ugetsu had given love a chance for the second time, had taken the risk and had exposed himself to the pain once more. Hadn’t he already learned the first time? Did he really have to go through this process again? Perhaps he was just being selfish. After all, truth is that back then, he really believed Hiroto could save him from his own misery. Yet, as time passed by and as they shared more memories together, the more he thought about him, the more he could feel himself tumbling down and drowning in his own profound toxic and unhealthy feelings. Still, those are things he couldn’t tell him.

“Ugetsu you can’t- Please just tell me what’s wrong. I can help you. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just please talk to me!” It sounded like a plead for help, a desperate attempt to resolve the issue. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do, no words he could say, no actions he could take. He had already been cut out. A sudden strong gust of wind blew through his hair, making his scarf fly into the grey sky. Curiously, he found it to have the familiar scent of guilt. And when Ugetsu finally raised his head, he saw a look of pure anguish in Hiroto’s eyes. For a moment, he cursed himself and his inability to let people in. How presumptuous of him to believe he could’ve made him happy. In the end, he had just continued the legacy, had broken up with the man he loved dearly, like his previous lover had done to him.

Eyes staring at the ray of sunshine in front of him while it slowly lost of its light, Ugetsu desperately wanted to apologize for the pain he was causing him. He wanted to reach out and grab his hand, to kiss the tears away from his cheeks. But he couldn’t do neither of those. Instead, he just stood there before him, unable to utter a single word while he thought of another man. Indeed, he let his thoughts wander to Akihiko, to that last December when he had shattered every inch of his being with but a mere few words. He wondered if he too, had felt sorry for him. If too, had felt this remorseful and ashamed. “It’s gonna be my turn soon. I should get going.”, Ugetsu finally said, voice devoided of any feelings of culpability. He couldn’t be weak in front of Hiroto, couldn’t give him any signs of hope.

And so he spun on his heals, heading back inside the auditorium in time for his own performance.

“Ugetsu!” The violinist miserably heard Hiroto call out his name. How desperately he wanted to give up, to let him jump in his arms. How difficult it had been to resist to that temptation, to keep walking further away from the boy he could once kiss with such passion, the boy he could once love. Ugetsu left him outside, in the coldest month of the year, as he himself willingly shut himself from the blonde’s warmth.

In this moment, it was safe to say that his heart was just as cold as the freezing temperatures of winter.

How weary had he grown of these ice-numbing days.

**𝐈𝐈.**

“Contestant number 9, Murata Ugetsu.”

When his name was called to the front, the musician followed the procedure and stepped forward. For a mere second, it felt as if time had stopped, as if he found himself stuck in a world where no one but him was welcomed in. His muscles were tense, and the stiffness in his shoulders was even greater. As he looked at the stage standing before him, bathing in a dozen lights, it seemed distant. Foreign even.

Even if the auditorium was filled to the brim with both expert ears and curious ones, the silence surrounding the violinist was thick and heavy. Ugetsu could perceive no other sound than his own loud irregular breathing as well as the noise of his weighty footsteps, of dress shoes tapping against wooden floor. And so there he stood, a more than average looking man, before an audience in awe. Black hair looking like it’s usual mess, dark suit still cold from the earlier winds, Ugetsu appeared far from the prodigy he was known to be. Yet, he was nothing less but that—; a genius who was destined to walk on that path, the path that would lead him to become the renowned musician everyone expected him to be. Even today, their expectations were high and the pressure on his shoulders even higher.

However, Ugetsu knew well that their delirious hopes would be crushed. He was aware of the simplicity of his piece, and that sheer deception would be the only feelings to remain after his performance for both judges and spectators. Nonetheless, his choice had already been made, for partitions had been switched and complex notes had turned into austere ones. What seemingly appeared to previously be an easy win had turned out to become a certain failure, a defeat that left a nostalgic and bitter taste on Ugetsu’s tongue. Because, truth be said, the violist had completely given up on his desire to win. He had lost his perfect ideal of victory, his desperate need of awards and of recognition. The outcome no longer mattered, and this went for both this competition, as well as all of those who followed. He now just desired to spill his emotions through his music, to share his misery and sorrow to the people that were kind enough to listen.

Slowly, hesitantly even, Ugetsu lifted his violin and carefully placed it on his shoulder. For the first time in forever, he noticed its weight, noticed how rough the wood felt and how beautiful it shone beneath the spotlight. ‘Had it always been this heavy?’, he pondered. Old memories surged from the depths of his mind, memories of him first playing the instrument when he was but a mere child. Perhaps it was only back then, when he had yet to develop his deep feelings for it, that he could discern each of its little details.

Frail and trembling fingers came in contact with rough strings, strings he so dearly loved and despised—; strings that kept turning his pale fingers into bloody red ones during unbearably warm and suffocating nights. As he looked at his bow twitch uncontrollably in his hand, he wondered if his fingers had always been shaking this much before his performances, if he had always felt this nervous in the past. The air was thick on the stage and it made it hard for Ugetsu to breathe. His heartbeat was pounding in his chest, echoing in his ears. He could feel it in the pad of his fingers, in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly felt nauseous, unknown feelings growing too unbearable for him to cope with. ‘Have my heart always beaten this fast? Have I ever wanted to quit this much before?’, he asked himself. ‘Is this what it feels like to be anxious?’

The violinist scoffed. How unpleasant this feeling was, he thought. And yet, he also found it to be oddly heartening and welcoming. It was nostalgic. It reminded him of soft spring days, of him playing for his mother beneath the blooming cherry blossoms as she softly fell asleep. It also evoked memories of his first competition when he was young, of his very first—and very last—gratifying win.

How long had he been standing there, reminiscing of the past. Ugetsu had completely lost all notion of time. However, the woman sitting by the piano, his accompanist, finally chose to put an end to this heavy silence by pressing on the first few notes, soft melody quickly replacing the foul taste of dread in the air. A faint smile appeared in the corner of the prodigy’s lip as he too, began to play the piece.

It was a song of hope and yet of hopelessness. It was a song of peace and yet of everlasting despair. It was a song of joy and yet of deep sorrow. It was a song he had played last winter beneath the soft rays of the moon when Akihiko had broken up with him.

It was Spiegel Im Spiegel.

**𝐈𝐈𝐈.**

‘Will it reach you?’, he wondered as his fingers danced on the strings of his violin.

Eyes closed, breath stuck in his throat, Ugetsu’s thoughts wandered endlessly. He reminisced about hot and sweaty nights, about rough kisses and lustful gazes he shared with his past lover in his empty apartment. He remembered silent walks through the busy city after violent arguments, hands distant yet so eagerly desperate to be held. He recalled empty words of love whispered in his ears, weightless words only murmured as if they were meant to please him. The violinist remembered his last bitter memory of the falling snow, of white ethereal tears coming from Heaven. He recalled Akihiko’s dry and harsh complaints, his empty glare and sorrowless heart as he broke his soul last winter.

It was all so painful, all so cruel. And so, aching memories of the past drifted to more pleasant and recent ones, to soft and breezy days during summer, fingers intertwined with the sun itself. Ugetsu thought about his bright smiles, about his constant optimistic and persistent behavior. He evoked those hesitant and slow nights where his curious hands explored his already tainted skin, skin sometimes painted in fresh bruises. He’d remember his wide eyes, his soft lips kissing over the already red marks. The prodigy recalled of delicate and timid touches beneath the dining table, of his time spent in his unknown room. Yet, Hiroto’s bed was always warm and inviting. How could he even dare to forget all those instances where the both of them stayed up on that bed, carelessly laughing until the break of dawn.

Ugetsu could no longer hear the music he was playing. Instead, it felt like he was stuck underwater, soft notes muffled by the void of his endless loneliness slowly suffocating him. His heart ached, as if it was being crushed by a stone. How dearly did he miss him already. How badly did he want to relive those memories, to start all over again to keep himself from making the same mistakes.

‘Will it reach you?’

Love or music—; for some reason, Ugetsu has always been confronted between those two choices. If he let his heart get swayed by love, he grew to feel disconnected with his music. Though, on the other hand, the despairing sound emitting from his violin made him ever so lonely. He could not have both, and for a moment the boy also thought that he didn’t deserve to have neither. If the violin brought him such misery, such constant anguish, wasn’t it the time he gave up on it, he wondered. But he knew well that such a request was impossible to carry out. After all, Ugetsu was aware more than anyone else that without music, he was nothing. He’d just be a broken and flawed individual, one that would no longer have the ability to hide behind the sorry excuse of his violin. And so the piece he had chosen to play in the final round of this competition showed just that.

It conveyed his constant and profound solitude, isolation and grief. It was a song destined to all of those he once and still loved, to all of those he had cowardly pushed away because he feared the image of desolation and loneliness after a bitter separation. Indeed, love was just like flowers—; it always withered during the harshest months, during the cold season. How could he give himself to something so unstable, to a seasonal fling that was bound to leave him hopeless during wintertime.

When he played the last note, long minutes after his first, the musician noticed that his fingers were trembling more than before. He was breathless and blinded by the stage lights, sweat dripping down his nape. Slowly, as if he was stuck in a daze, he removed his instrument from his numbed shoulder, feeling suddenly light. Indeed, both the weight of his violin and the weight of his burdens had suddenly vanished, swayed by the newly formed heavy feeling of misery lingering in the air.

‘Did it reach you?’, he wondered.

However, as Ugetsu looked through the crowd with squinted eyes in hopes of recognizing a familiar face, he was left shocked, regretful—destroyed. Gaze desperately skimming through the audience, begging to catch a glimpse of his warm eyes to calm his raged breathing, the violinist saw neither Akihiko nor Hiroto. Foreign instrument in his hand, heart unbearably tightening in his chest, he found himself defeated, completely crushed. Thoughts like ‘who have I been playing for?’ and ‘have all of this been for nothing?’ emerge from the depths of his mind, haunting and cursing him for being vulnerable. Feeling overwhelmingly hopeless, a tear slid down Ugetsu’s cheek as he looked in the distance.

His pleads had been disregarded, his apology had been ignored and his last message had been unheard by those he wished had heard it most. Yet again, he was left with the dreaded pain of abandonment.

Through the window situated at the back of the auditorium, he saw a beautiful sight of painted white, of falling snow covering the fading flowers and green grass. “Oh. It started snowing.”, he whispered, tone filled with melancholy as a pained smile drew itself on the corner of his chapped lips.

**𝐈𝐕.**

All through the long and dreary night

I lie awake and moan;

How desolate my chamber feels,

How weary I have grown

Of being left alone.

**Udaisho Tsuna**

**『 END 』**


End file.
